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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28888059">Hermes, God of Thieves</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsThunderFrost/pseuds/MsThunderFrost'>MsThunderFrost</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hades (Video Game 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Zagreus (Hades Video Game), M/M, Meddling Hermes (Hades Video Game), Minor Charon/Hermes (Hades Video Game), Minor Megaera/Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Paddling, Spanking, Spoilers for Hades' Secret Boss (Hades Video Game), Tentacle Dick, Top Charon (Hades Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:42:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,313</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28888059</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsThunderFrost/pseuds/MsThunderFrost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“No hard feelings about the whole battle-to-the-death thing last time, right, Charon? Especially since you absolutely demolished me. I was just messing with you, you know that, right?” Zagreus asks.</p>
<p>Charon lifts his head, ever so slowly. He catches a glimpse of the boatman’s glowing purple eye beneath the wide brim of his hat, before his entire face is obscured in a cloud of dense, purple smoke. “Nrraaauuuggghh…!” </p>
<p>Zagreus flinches. “Missing… one gold obol, you say? How odd, seeing as I happen to be in possession of one additional gold obol…” He takes it out and places it on the boatman’s podium, taking the initiative to slide it toward Charon’s twitching hands when he makes no move to take it from him himself. “There—all better now.” </p>
<p>It is most definitely <i>not</i> all better. And what kind of shopkeep would Charon be if he didn't punish thieves?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charon/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>121</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Hades Rural Dionysia Exchange</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hermes, God of Thieves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/saigen/gifts">saigen</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zagreus stands at the exit to the second to last chamber of Elysium, where the Fates have been so kind as to offer him a choice. To the left is Charon’s shop, which will no doubt have something on offer to help with his utterly abysmal health. On the right is a chamber boasting a centaur heart, which will certainly be of help in his battle against Theseus and Asterius… though, perhaps not as helpful as one of Charon’s infamous gyros.</p>
<p>With the help of various boons, Zagreus has managed to accumulate near 1,000 gold obol this run. It helps that he’s been steadfastly avoiding Charon at every turn, refusing to even consider the bevy of goods offered in the wells scattered across the ever-changing planes of the Underworld. Not that he would ever <em>admit</em> to avoiding Charon, of course. If anyone were to ask, he is clinging to the final vestiges of his last death defiance for the sport of it—and not because Charon had paddled him, mercilessly, after he’d failed to make off with the 300 gold obol that the boatman kept stashed away just behind his various wares.</p>
<p>It’s not that he’s embarrassed to have been caught, and subsequently killed, by Charon. No, nothing like that. It’s, well… he rubs the tender curve of his ass, where cheek meets thigh. One trip through the Styx later, and it still aches with the memory of the blade of the oar <em>cracking</em> down upon it with all of Charon’s ridiculous strength.</p>
<p>It had felt… <em>ridiculously</em> good.</p>
<p>After careful deliberation, Zagreus has decided that he would very much like Charon to spank him <em>again</em>. But maybe… without the oar, this time? That’s not to say that the oar hadn’t felt incredible, because it <em>had</em>. Of course it had. He’d been on the verge of one of the most mind-numbing orgasms of his <em>life</em> (and he has no doubt that Charon had seen the tent in his leggings, had seen the way that beads of pre had begun to dribble from his slit as the swats became more and more intense…) But ever since, all he can think about is how <em>intense</em> those long, thin fingers, encased in elegant bands of glittering gold, would feel on his aching flesh.</p>
<p>But he doesn’t know how to go about asking for that, or if that would even be something Charon would be interested in. So, he’s been not-avoiding Charon for the entirety of this run, knowing full-well that his decision would ultimately come back to bite him in the ass. And now, here he is, about to face off against the Champion of Elysium with no remaining death defiances, next to no health, and no options. He counts his obol again, if only to bide himself some time. Oddly enough, he seems to have acquired one additional obol somewhere along the line. While it’s possible that his count had been off, it seems odd that it would only be off by <em>one</em>.</p>
<p>His confusion aside, he knows that he only really has one choice here. The Elysian fields quake beneath his feet as the chamber door moves aside, granting him entrance to Charon’s shop. He steps forward, a little hesitant, only for the door to slam closed behind him with a sort of stomach-churning finality. Any hope that he may have entertained of turning back has now been dashed—there is nowhere for him to go, short of continuing forward.</p>
<p>Charon is standing at his podium, meticulously counting and recounting his obol. He seems… agitated.</p>
<p>That… definitely does not bode well for him.</p>
<p>“No hard feelings about the whole battle-to-the-death thing last time, right, Charon? Especially since you absolutely demolished me. I was just messing with you, you know that, right?” Zagreus asks.</p>
<p>Charon lifts his head, ever so slowly. He catches a glimpse of the boatman’s glowing purple eye beneath the wide brim of his hat, before his entire face is obscured in a cloud of dense, purple smoke. “Nrraaauuuggghh…!”</p>
<p>Zagreus flinches. “Missing… one gold obol, you say? How odd, seeing as I happen to be in possession of one additional gold obol…” He takes it out and places it on the boatman’s podium, taking the initiative to slide it toward Charon’s twitching hands when he makes no move to take it from him himself. “There—all better now.”</p>
<p>“Hahhh…?” He doesn’t know how he can rightly be accused of <em>stealing</em>, when this is the first he’s seen Charon this run and all of the obol he collects reverts back to Charon upon his death. Still, something tells him that he’d best tread lightly…</p>
<p>“Of course not, mate! I <em>more</em> than learned my lesson the last time, thank you.” Charon is unmoved. He swallows hard, “Y-You know what? As a token of goodwill, I’ll even pay you double—no, <em>triple</em>—for that gyro over there.”</p>
<p>Zagreus’ fingers have scarcely grazed the one-hundred fifty obol he’d promised, when Charon’s hand curls around his wrist. Before he can even fully grasp what’s happening, he’s being led into a small alcove adjacent to the shop. “Haaahhhhh…” Punishment? But this time, he <em>literally</em> hadn’t done anything wrong!</p>
<p>“Charon, I—” Whatever else he was about to say is lost as Charon pushes him face-down onto the mattress, and lands a swift, open-handed swat on the curve of his ass.</p>
<p>Zagreus’ knees <em>quake</em>, an utterly <em>indecent</em> sound spilling over his lips as the pain-pleasure ricochets through him as though his body were a finely tuned string upon a lyre. He arches his back, raising his ass a little higher so that Charon might—that powerful hand comes down again, with enough force to send him sliding up the bed a little. He fists blankets that smell faintly of incense and perfume, of the hazy purple smoke that pours from Charon’s mouth with every shuddering exhalation. This is happening. This is <em>really</em> happening. Granted, it’s only happening because the boatman thinks he was trying to make off with his obol again, but—</p>
<p>His mismatched eyes widen a little when, instead of delivering another swat, the boatman’s fingers curl in the waistband of his leggings. Is he going to…? Zagreus makes a startled little <em>yip</em> as Charon yanks his leggings down, the excess fabric twisting around his ankles and effectively binding him in place. For a moment, there is nothing… and then, Charon’s massive hand is stroking his cheeks appraisingly.</p>
<p>Charon’s skin is cool—not like the bitterly cold snow on the surface, or even the refreshing water that flows through the fountain chambers which occasionally appear throughout Tartarus, Asphodel, and Elysium. No, his touch is… refreshing, like the taste of Eurydice’s refreshing nectar after spending hours narrowly avoiding a bath in the blistering lava that filled the River Phlegethon. He finds himself leaning into the touch, just a bit—</p>
<p>Zagreus receives a resounding <em>slap</em> as reward for his efforts, his pale skin blooming a vibrant <em>red</em> where Charon’s hand had landed. He bites down on the inside of his cheek to stifle a near-desperate moan.</p>
<p>“<em>Hrrhhh</em>…” It takes his scrambled brain a moment to process that Charon wants him to <em>count</em>.</p>
<p>“O-One.” He forces out, his grip on the blankets tightening just so. He wouldn’t dare <em>rip</em> them—he can’t even imagine how many gemstones it would cost to order a replacement from the House Contractor. Charon growls, and Zagreus splutters out, “One!” a little louder.</p>
<p>“Kaaahhhh…” How many does he think that he deserves? He’s tempted to say ‘none’, in part because the cheek is sure to land him a couple of extra-hard swats—and in part because he hadn’t actually done anything wrong.</p>
<p>He’s been faced with an interesting conundrum. On the one hand, if he gives a number that’s too <em>high</em>, Charon is liable to take it and run. On the other hand, if he gives a number that’s too <em>low</em>, it might inspire Charon to take… more <em>drastic</em> measures… “U-Um… twenty-five?”</p>
<p>Charon lands a sharp, open-handed swat to the tender curve of his ass, where cheek meets thigh. He supposes that that’s the boatman’s way of saying that that number is acceptable. He doesn’t have long to reflect on what that might mean, however, because the boatman lands another impatient swat directly on top of the last. A not-so-gentle reminder that he’s <em>supposed</em> to be counting. He stutters out a quick “two, three,” his voice likely considerably softer than Charon would’ve liked. But it’s hard to project when your loincloth is already wet with pre, and every ounce of your self-control is being poured into refraining from rutting against your companion’s bed.</p>
<p>The feel of Charon’s hand on his skin is every bit as tantalizing as he’d dreamed it would be. Though none of his strikes could be deemed <em>soft</em>, he knows just how much force to apply behind each blow to make Zagreus’ blood <em>sing</em> with electricity. He feels like he’s floating, his mind a pleasant buzz of nothingness—save for the numbers, climbing ever higher. Fourteen. Fifteen. Charon is speaking to him, admonishing him for attempting to steal from him when he’d taken the time to set up these shops to <em>help</em> him escape from the Underworld, but there’s no real malice in his voice. He must see the way that Zagreus is <em>drooling</em>, his mismatched eyes half-lidded as his body <em>rocks</em> back… and forth…</p>
<p>Twenty. Twenty-one. Gods, but his cock is throbbing. He wants to cum, <em>needs</em> it like he needs air. Well, he doesn’t actually need air—but when Charon’s hand is transforming his ass into an actual work of art, it certainly <em>feels</em> like he does. Tears bud in the corners of his eyes as the last swat lands heavily at the very tops of his thighs. He’s so close, he doesn’t think he can move without teetering over the edge.</p>
<p>And if that weren’t Charon’s intent, well… Blood and darkness, it would be embarrassing even if it <em>were</em> Charon’s intent. Zagreus likes to think he has a <em>bit</em> more self-control than that…</p>
<p>“Hahhh…” Distantly, he recognizes the sound of a bottle being uncorked. He doesn’t quite understand it’s purpose, until he feels a cool, slightly oily liquid dribble between his cheeks. “Hgnnn…?”</p>
<p>It’s an invitation… no, an <em>offer</em> of something more. Of some measure of relief for the ache between his legs. Zagreus’ heart leaps up into his throat, “I… <em>Please</em>…”</p>
<p>Consent obtained, Charon wastes no time in parting Zagreus’ aching cheeks to slide a finger inside of his twitching bud. Although he is able to accommodate the intrusion easily enough, he starts, just a little, at the <em>stretch</em> that accompanies the finger gliding inside. Charon’s fingers are quite a bit longer than Meg’s, or even Than’s. Colder, too. And then, of course, there’s the matter of the—Zagreus’ body tenses, his eyes blowing wide as one of Charon’s many glittering rings sinks inside of him with a wet <em>pop</em>. His orgasm washes over him with all the force of one of Poseidon’s boons, drenching his loincloth and staining the topmost blanket on Charon’s bed.</p>
<p>He shivers, waiting for his rebuke—not only had he cum without Charon’s permission, but he’d made a proper mess, too. There’s no way that Charon hadn’t felt his orgasm, that he couldn’t smell the heady scent of his seed hanging in the air. The rebuke never comes. In fact, Charon hardly acknowledges his orgasm at all, choosing instead to sink another finger in alongside the first and scissor them, painfully slow. Zagreus sinks his teeth into the blanket to bite back a sob, the feel of Charon’s rings tugging at his rim almost too much for his hypersensitive body to take. At the same time, it feels… <em>good</em>. Far too good for him to ever seriously consider asking him to stop—</p>
<p>Charon’s third finger is accompanied by praise. He’s doing so well, just a little bit more…</p>
<p>The fingers withdraw all too soon, much to Zagreus’ chagrin. He doesn’t have long to mourn their absence, however, as Charon is soon rolling him onto his back and divesting him of his soiled loincloth. “C-Charon…?”</p>
<p>“Shh…” the boatman divests himself of his robes, revealing rippling lavender-gray muscles and… oh my. Zagreus licks his lips as he considers the undulating, tentacle-like cock that hangs between Charon’s powerful legs. It’s similar in shape to the tentacles of the projelly that he sometimes fishes out of the depths of Chaos.</p>
<p>Charon approaches the bed, taking one of Zagreus’ long, pale legs and pressing it back toward his sternum. With his free hand, he runs his cock along the length of Zagreus’ crack, gathering up a bit of the oil he’d used to prep him just a second ago. His cock is also secreting a sweetly-scented bluish-purple liquid, that’s causing Zagreus to forget just how <em>large</em> his tentacle cock is in favor of spreading his legs just a little bit wider so that Charon has uninhibited access to his quivering, slightly gaped hole. He’s never taken anything quite so big before, but his cock twitches at the thought of trying…</p>
<p>The flat, flared head of Charon’s cock bumps up against Zagreus’ rim, sliding inside with the greatest of ease. He works his hips slowly, aware that it’ll only get thicker. The oil, combined with Charon’s own mysterious secretions, help to ease the way, and soon enough Zagreus is sobbing as the entirety of Charon’s pulsating length is seated inside of his tight heat. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before—somehow breathtakingly soft, and achingly hard, all at once. It pulses to the beat of Zagreus’ own frantic heart, the excess fluid leaking from his abused hole to dribble down between his legs and make an even <em>greater</em> mess on the bed.</p>
<p>“C-Charon, mate… I never would’ve guessed that you were hiding such a g-generous package under those h-heavy robes of yours…” Zagreus’ nails sink into the boatman’s biceps, as he slowly begins to rock his hips forward.</p>
<p>“Hahhh…” Charon lands a sharp swat to one aching cheek, and Zagreus obediently closes his mouth. “Haaahhhhh…” What was that, now? The next time he wanted to do this, he should just… come right out and ask? Instead of being a little brat who sticks their hands in places where they don’t belong…?</p>
<p>It’s hard to organize his thoughts, when he’s drunk on the feel of Charon <em>filling him up so well</em>. Each slam of the older god’s hips seems to fill him up further, the little suckers on the underside of his cock teasing him in places that have, thus far, gone undetected and untouched… “But I-I really didn’t take your obol… t-this time, at least.”</p>
<p>“Hrrhhh…” Charon’s hips begin to <em>slap</em> against Zagreus’ aching cheeks, his fingers pressing deep into the red, aching skin. Zagreus wishes, briefly, that the marks would survive the Styx. He wants to <em>remember </em> this…</p>
<p>And then it sinks in, what Charon had just said. “W-Wait, you… you <em>knew</em>?!”</p>
<p>He <em>thinks</em> that Charon rolls his eyes at that—which, okay, is <em>more</em> than a little rude—but he finds himself hard-pressed to care when one of those suckers attaches itself to his prostate. His eyes roll back into his head as he flops down onto the mattress, his body absolutely boneless as Charon continues to fuck into him at a furious speed. He can feel the boatman’s cock <em>pulsing</em>, the ecto-exterior seeming to <em>swell</em> as he nears release. His own cock is hard and leaking, arched sharply up toward his belly as he goes barreling toward his second orgasm of the day (night?). Blood and darkness, but he’s close. Just a little bit more…</p>
<p>As if reading his mind, Charon releases his hot, aching cheek in favor of curling his hand around Zagreus’ weeping cock. Zagreus’ entire body tenses, those cool, golden rings on his searing hot flesh causing his skin to <em>hiss</em>. It takes only a small handful of strokes for him to cum, his back arching strongly as he paints Charon’s hand—and his own chest—in thick ropes of white.</p>
<p>He passes out just as he feels the first spurts of Charon’s icy seed—</p>
<hr/>
<p>Zagreus is uncertain how long he’d been out, but he wakes considerably less sore than he’d expected to be. Maybe it was all a dream…? A little despondent, he sits up, only to realize that he was most certainly not in his bed back at the House. He winces a little from the slight pressure on his smarting cheeks—there’s an open jar of bruise salve on the bedside table, as well as a cup of cool water from one of the nearby fountains and a small packet of herbs. There’s a note, too, with careful instructions to take the herbs when he wakes up to help with any residual pain. The corner of Zagreus’ mouth quirks up into a small smile as he does as he was told.</p>
<p>In no particular rush to see Theseus, Zagreus ambles out of bed and decides to investigate Charon’s room. It’s decidedly small, likely only intended to be a brief respite in-between traveling from Asphodel and the Temple. Still… it’s interesting to catch a glimpse behind-the-scenes, to see what Charon is like in his private moments. In fact, if he’s not mistaken, the scarf that he has draped over his headboard looks <em>awfully</em> familiar—</p>
<p>“So you finally caved, eh boss?” Is that… Hermes? Abandoning the scarf, Zagreus pokes his head out of the little alcove to see… Charon, back at his podium, counting his near never-ending stacks of obol, with Hermes flittering about like a small child hyped on sugar. “I told you he was interested. He just… needed a bit of persuading.”</p>
<p>“Hgnnn…” Charon passes the messenger god one glittering gold obol. Hermes raises a brow.</p>
<p>“I mean… much as I appreciate the symbolism here, you don’t think that maybe, just <em>maybe</em>, I’ve earned something a little bit <em>more</em>?” He bats his eyelashes, puckering his lips suggestively.</p>
<p>Charon seems to consider this for a moment, before begrudgingly passing another gold obol Hermes’ way. “Hahhh…” He blows out a mouthful of dense purple smoke, which takes the shape of a heart.</p>
<p>Hermes pouts, “I… That’s not exactly what I had in mind…” Zagreus snorts, moving to cover his mouth a second too late. The messenger god’s head snaps up, before his lips curl into a knowing smile. “Well, hi there, Coz. You’re looking <em>remarkably</em> well-rested. You’ll have to let me in on your secret…”</p>
<p>“Nrraaauuuggghh…!” Charon glares at him, the rebuke in his voice clear. He should not be out of bed yet. “Hgnnn…” Zagreus puts his hands up in a show of innocence, before scampering back into the alcove. Charon will be in soon enough to provide continued aftercare and, if he’s good, a quick cuddle before he has to depart.</p>
<p>When he returns to the bed, there is a Boon of Hermes waiting for him. He accepts it without thinking, and is surprised that, instead of Hermes’ usual offerings, all he receives from the messenger god is a single gold obol. There’s a bright, chittering “You’re welcome!” followed by a rush of wind, and then… the scarf is gone, and so is he. Zagreus is still pondering what all of it means when Charon returns with fresh water from the nearby fountain…</p>
<p>And then he remembers the one obol that’d mysteriously shown up in his bag, right before he reached Charon’s shop. Could it… have been Hermes that’d put it there? He supposes that anything’s possible…</p>
<p>“Hahhh…” He lays down, obedient, and Charon runs his fingers through his hair. He supposes that the logistics really don’t matter, now that he’s here, experiencing the expert care of the boatman of the River Styx…</p>
<p>But he’ll be sure to say ‘thank you’ to Hermes next time he sees him, just in case.</p>
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